


Adding to the Bitty Brigade (Brassberry)

by Vexatious



Series: Bittybones [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Animosity, Arachnophobia, Bittybones Adoption, Blood and Violence, Brassberry bittybones, Disturbing Themes, Edgy Bittybones, Enemies, Gen, Jealousy, Mild Language, Near Death Experiences, Red is an Asshole, Suggestive Themes, Tiny Sans, Tiny Underfell Sans, Tiny Yanderetale Sans, Yanderetale Bittybones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 19:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexatious/pseuds/Vexatious
Summary: In which Red reluctantly accepts a new bitty into the household and immediately regrets it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Click here](https://vex-bittys.tumblr.com/post/155217692546/bittybones-fanfiction-index-and-characters) for more information about my Bittybones.

I suspected there might be some problems between the new Brassberry bitty and my current bitty, Red, so I decided to pick up the Brassy a few days earlier than the rest of the bittys. I really couldn’t believe that Red had agreed to this at all, and I hoped he’d stay cooperative for more than his usual 2.3 seconds. I’m realistic though, so I left him at home to avoid a public tantrum. I had specifically asked him not to tear up my new box of business cards, which was actually just a new box filled with my old outdated business cards. I figured tearing up a few hundred rectangles of card stock would keep him busy while I was away.

I decided to go to Ammazolie’s bitty shop directly since every Brassberry bitty is different, but I was a little surprised when I got there. The bittys were in large unadorned bins, and there appeared to be bitty-sized blood stains on the floor. The shop owner was nowhere to be seen, but a rather well-dressed Yanby bitty was manning the counter.

“Excuse me,” I said to him. He looked up from idly stroking the sparkling green beads around his neck. For a monster with no real facial expression, he seemed expectant. “Is Ammazolie here?” I asked him, eyeing a particularly wet-looking splatter of blood. He… grinned maybe? It was hard to tell.

“She’s out back delivering Brassberries,” he told me. I heard a raucous laugh and the FWOOMP sound of… a potato gun? I decided not to ask questions. I’d just get my bitty and go, as quickly as possible and hopefully without ever needing to come back.

“I’m actually here to pick up a Brassberry,” I explained.

“Over there.” He pointed to a bin labeled “Brassberries- FREE.” Right. I walked over to the Brassberry bin, and peeked inside. Dozens of tiny hopeful faces lifted to look at me. They were so stinking adorable, how could I choose just one? Oh, yeah, because Red would go ballistic if I brought home a tiny cuddle army. I’d just have to reach in and grab one.

I closed my eyes against the disappointment I knew would be on most of their faces and grabbed the first bitty my hand touched. Unfortunately, since I wasn’t looking, I accidentally lifted the bitty by the jacket sleeve, and as he cleared the top of the bin, his teensy jacket slipped off. The poor Brassberry tumbled into the next bin, whose sign, I recalled, read “WARNING: Biteberries.” Shit.

Panicking (I was familiar with the reputation of Biteberries), I didn’t hesitate; I reached down into the writhing mass of aggressive bittys and snatched the Brassberry, securely this time. It only took seconds, but I had to swat several of the Biteberry bittys off of my new Brassberry. His clothes were torn, and my hand bled from an array of vicious bitty bites. I even had to shake one of the cretins loose. He hit the floor with a sharp SPLAT and darted under the bin for cover.

Meanwhile, the Brassberry clung tightly to my hand. I carefully put his jacket back on over his torn shirt. “Thank you, momma,” he said, holding my fingers tightly and dabbing at my injuries with his little tongue (awkward).

“You didn’t splorp outta my flume ride, so call me Vex, ok?” He looked crestfallen, but he complied. The Yanby’s dark laughter followed us out of the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

My new Brassberry clung to me tightly when I tried to move him from my hand to my shoulder; he obviously didn’t want me to let him go. He finally settled for being placed in my cleavage. He snuggled down so deeply between my breasts that only his little head and arms stuck out. I chuckled; he was the ruler of his own fleshy pillow fortress. I took the opportunity to examine my hand. Brassy had done a good job cleaning the bite marks, and they no longer seeped blood, even the deeper mark left by that last Biteberry. No rush to get home then.

“Hey, Brassy-bean, would you like to do some shopping so we can pick up some treats for you?” His eyes shone with joy as he looked up at me. There was a really great butcher shop downtown where we could pick up some meat, and I wanted to grab some sweet treats for him as well. “Red’s probably still busy destroying things at home,” I said, intending it to be to myself, but my new bitty overheard me.

“Treats, really?” His excitement over treats turned to wariness as he asked who Red was. I explained that Red was my Edgy bitty, his soon-to-be (when we got home) brother. “He destroys your stuff?” my skeptical Brassberry asked.

“All. The. Time.” I laughed. “It’s just who he is.” We arrived at the shopping center downtown, and he gawped silently at all the gourmet food shops, his awe palpable. I didn’t usually come to this shopping center, but a butcher shop here sold just about every kind of meat imaginable. I wanted to make sure my new Brassberry bitty got the best quality meat possible to keep him healthy and happy. I rubbed his little shoulders, and he closed his eyes in bliss, sighing contentedly.

“They have just about every kind of meat here, so why don’t you pick something out?” I crouched in front of the display so that Brassy could see the selection without having to emerge from his cleavage cocoon. He took his time reading all of the labels- rabbit, beef, venison, bison, bear. This place reminded me of some kind of edible zoo.

“Beef, please,” he requested tentatively. I ordered him some beef tenderloin and some other cuts of meat for our regular dinners at home. The butcher behind the counter prepared everything fresh, so we had a few moments while the meat was trimmed and cut to browse the other shops. We meandered past some gourmet coffee and artisan candle stores until we reached a destination that no bittybones could resist- a candy store.

“What kind of candy do you like?” I asked him as we entered the store.

He wouldn’t meet my eyes; he shuffled nervously. “We didn’t really get candy at the bitty shop,” he explained.

I plucked the reluctant bitty from my cleavage and set him gently on the counter. A friendly employee came over, and I explained what I needed. “I just got this precious little cutie and he’s never had candy before. Can you help me find something that he likes?” I love small locally-owned shops like these because they’ll generally allow you to try something before you buy it. I bought a bag of Kookaburra licorice and some gourmet jelly beans for me and Red and watched as Brassy bit into candy after candy, contemplating each one carefully.

“I… think I like this the best,” he finally stated, holding up a half eaten yogurt-covered pretzel. “No wait!” he redacted, “I think I like the chocolate-covered cheesecake bites better.” His face scrunched in indecision, and a teal-green blush blossomed on his cheekbones.

“We’ll get both,” I told him reassuringly. He beamed at me and declared today to be the best day ever. Heh. I’m sure it felt that way, considering he hadn’t met Red yet….


	3. Chapter 3

**i know momma said _not_  to destroy the business cards, but she’d been gone so long, i started to worry. when i worry, i destroy. she knows that. i’d just finished shredding the last piece of card stock when the door opened and momma and the new bittybones came in. that little SHIT was all tucked into her cleavage! smiley little shithead. suddenly, i was glad i’d torn up momma’s business cards. she deserved it!**

**i regretted my decision to allow other bittys into our home even more when momma picked up that bandage-headed bastard and nuzzled him before setting him next to me on her computer desk. i caught sight of her hands and they were covered- _covered!_ \- in bite marks. i narrowed my sockets at the newcomer, but momma spoke before i had a chance to.**

**“be nice, red,” she warned. “i need to clean these bites, and i expect you two to be chummy ol’ buddy pal friendos when i get back.”  
**

**“how come you only told me to be nice and not him,” i whined, pointing accusingly at the brassberry bitty who was giving me the evil socket himself.**

**“because i know you, and i’m pretty sure you won’t be anyway,” she shot back. it was a fair assessment. i did not plan to be “nice” to this new guy by any stretch of the definition.**

**i sized up the potential competition for momma’s attention. he might have been just a bit taller than me, but i’m way better-looking, so whatever. i circled him with a dangerous swagger; he just smirked. “what did you do to momma?” i accused.**

**“i thought we were supposed to call her vex?” the poor idiot looked confused.**

**“ _you_  have to call her vex, not me.” she’d given up on trying to get me to call her vex. i’m stubborn as hell, so she picks her battles.**

**“you didn’t ‘splorp outta her flume ride either,’ pal,” he growled, “and i didn’t do anything to her. she got bitten by some other bittys at the shop rescuing me.” he recalled the incident with pride as if she had chosen him to rescue.**

**“hate to burst your bubble, dudebro.” i did not hate to burst his bubble. “momma’s kind-hearted. she picks up earthworms off the sidewalk after it rains and throws them back in the grass so they don’t bake in the sun.” he ignored me, tilting his head slightly like he was listening to something.**

**“wait… is the shower right on the other side of this wall?” he suddenly asked (he probably heard the water running while momma cleaned off the bites). what the fuck! he was already perving on momma! i needed to annihilate his bubble this time.**

**“momma isn’t into tiny things. that’s why it didn’t work out with josh.” i snickered to myself. i’d managed to diss josh and the new bitty. i’m surprised he didn’t congratulate me on merit of being a sans alone.**

**“that’s fine,” he smirked. i did not like the smirk. “yan bittys can grow if their owners are in danger… or if the owner wants it.” the smirk widened into a full smile.  
**

**i hated him.**


	4. Chapter 4

**momma left the bathroom, but instead of coming into the bedroom, she went to the kitchen. i guess she was putting away groceries, so i was stuck with only the newbie for company until she came back. i suspected that she’d planned it this way so we could make friends. that was never going to happen. i faced the brassberry bitty; he regarded me coolly with his arms crossed over his chest.**

**“you’re only here because i decided you should be,” i informed him smugly. “momma needed some sappy asshole around to fix her depression, so i suggested she get you. you’d better do a good job cheering her up too, or i’ll teleport your ass back to the bittyshop faster than you can say ‘vex’- since you’re not allowed to call her momma.” he had the big brass balls (ha!) to laugh in my face. my eye lit up red, and i considered teleporting him away right then.**

**“you don’t have enough magic to teleport me that far. you’d die.” he smiled widely at the thought.**

**“it would be worth it to get you outta here, asshole,” i hissed. fortunately momma chose that moment to arrive on the scene, or that punk would’ve had a bad time.**

**“aw, look,” she said, picking up a handful of shredded business cards. “red made confetti to welcome you to the family!” she pursed her lips and blew the so-called confetti at brassberry, who blushed at the attention.**

**“thanks, momma.” i chuckled. brassberry had messed up already, but for some reason, momma’s glare fell on me instead of him.  
**

**“did you tell him to call me that?” she asked me, resting her hands on her hips and frowning slightly. i didn’t even get a chance to answer because _ass_ berry quickly interjected.**

**“well, he said he calls you momma, so i thought it was ok.” i slugged him in the arm; he pulled me into a headlock. momma had to pull us apart, probably because she didn’t want me to hurt the new guy.**

**“you’re both grounded,” she declared. “you have to sleep in the bitty-house tonight and no bedtime song!” unfair!**

**“but his bitty-house won’t be ready until tomorrow,” i whined.**

**“he’ll share yours. sharing is caring.”  
**

**“but i don’t care!”  
**

**“well, until you can get along, no bedtime songs and you have to sleep in the bitty-house.” i turned to glare at brassberry, but he was already glaring at me even though this was _his_  fault!**

* * *

**when it was time for bed, i made sure brassy knew his place by quickly claiming the bed for myself. it’s my bed anyway; no way was he sleeping in it. “you get the floor, buddy. my house, my rules.” the other bitty seemed preoccupied, staring off into the distance, what a weirdo!**

**“actually, i think i’ll sleep in the closet,” he muttered distractedly, following his nasal cavity like a skeleton toucan sam right towards my secret stash of momma’s bloodied gauze and lip balm.**

**“heh, where are my manners. you take the bed. i insist.”  
**

**i spent the night curled in front of my closet, protecting my precious treasures.**


	5. Chapter 5

Fortunately, the new bitty-house installer arrived early the next morning; poor Red hadn’t gotten much sleep laying in front of his treasure closet like an itty bitty dragon. Brassy mocked him with a languorous stretch and a comment about how soft and comfy the bed had been. For some reason, their bickering made me feel more grounded than I had been in weeks. My thoughts of inadequacy and fears of rejection faded away as the little skele soap opera unfolded in front of me.

“Why is the new bitty-house so big?” asked Brassy, who nestled against me on the couch while we watched the craftsman bring in section after section to assemble.

“We’re getting other bittybones soon as well,” I told him, stroking his back while he half-closed his sockets contentedly.

“Momma just wanted to get you settled in early because you’re going to be a glorified bitty-sitter,” sneered an overly-tired Red from his perch on my shoulder. I’d tried to rub his back, but he was being obstinate and grouchy, so I ended up holding my hand near his face so he could half-heartedly gnaw at me. I only let him bite my uninjured hand though because the cuts from yesterday still stung.

“Hmm,” Brassy grunted noncommittally, more interested in back rubs than rising to Red’s baited remarks. Soon enough, Red curled up in the curve of my neck and dozed off. I moved him down onto my lap and laid my hand over him like a blanket.

“Now, Brassy, I’m not sure how much Red actually told you, but we need to talk about bitty heats.” Brassy perked up. “No! No… I’m not into that.” He slouched in disappointment. “If you let me know what you need though, I can get it for you. You have rules. You’ll be separated from the other bittys while you’re in heat, and you have to tell me. I won’t hurt you or let the other bittys take advantage, but it’s my job to make sure everyone is safe and happy, ok?”

“Ok, momma, I trust you.” Wow. His declaration of trust hit me hard, right in the heart. I thought it would take a long time to win over a Brassberry bitty, but this one- my sweet Brassy-bean- had dedicated himself to me completely. I hoped I could live up to his expectations.

After the bitty-house installer had finished his work and left, I took my two precious little bittybones into the kitchen to get some dinner ready for them. I gave Brassy some of the fresh raw meat from the butcher and started making steak and sweet pepper stir-fry for all of us. Brassy watched me cook; I insisted that he keep his distance though because I have a gas stove and it worried me to see him close to an open flame. Red continued to slumber on an oven mitt I’d placed on the counter for him.

When Brassy was done being carnivorous, I told him about the doggy door and the garage. His reaction startled me. He jumped onto me, clinging tightly to the front of my shirt like I might escape him at any moment and vanish.

“Nothing will happen to you, momma,” he declared vehemently. “I won’t let it!” He swept the kitchen with a glare as if danger might be lurking, trying to snatch me away from him at any moment. One of Red’s eye socket slid open, revealing a glowing crimson eye.

“Me either,” he grumbled, still mostly asleep. “We’ll take care of ya, momma.”

He ruined the moment by snoring loudly, but I appreciated the sentiment, more than they would ever know.


	6. Chapter 6

I’d adopted my Brassberry bittybones a few weeks before I picked up the rest of the bitty bunch for a good reason- he needed to learn to get along with Red.I thought bringing them to work with me might help. Instead of receiving a flat rate for placing employees, I took a percentage of wages. Going on hiatus when I needed some down time didn’t affect my business much, but I couldn’t just stay away forever. Red and Brassy started the workday fighting over who got to ride where on the way over. I ended up with two bittybones aggressively pulling on my hair as they squabbled for the best position on my shoulder.

I knew better than to expect exemplary behavior, but I at least expected not-a-disaster. Whenever Red was involved with something, however, disaster seemed inevitable. 

Things started well. I’d received several excellent resumes recently, and I prepared to conduct one-on-one interviews with the applicants in my office today. I set my little troublemakers down on the desk to play (or fight) while I worked, with instructions to keep yelling, swearing, and hitting to the minimum that they could manage. It turned out to still be quite a bit. Red resorted to his usual tactic of throwing, kicking, and even headbutting every item within his reach onto the floor. My sweet Brassy Bean, at the office for the first time, dutifully climbed down from the desk using the drawer handles and retrieved as many items as he could carry.

I diffused the situation by pulling a bag of fresh jellybeans out of my purse and putting them in the candy dish which Red hadn’t yet knocked off of my desk. “Moderation,” I warned Red, recalling a previous incident that involved jellybeans, overindulgence, and bittybones vomit. He waved me off, and he and Brassy settled in, digging around in the candy dish for their favorite flavors. While they were distracted, I called in an applicant for her interview.

“Miss Santiago? Please have a seat.” She did, only glancing briefly at the two bittys who appeared to be tussling over a jellybean that neither one of them particularly cared for the flavor of. “You have a stellar resume. We just to complete a basic personality and preference chart so that you can be placed with a compatible employer.” She beamed and opened her mouth to speak when a small quavering voice interrupted her.

“Momma, can I have a jellybean?” I focused on her more closely and noticed a Cherry bitty eyeing my candy dish from behind my client’s neck. Miss Santiago blushed brightly and began to explain herself.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t normally bring him to work interviews, but he had a panic attack earlier… I didn’t think I should leave him-”

“I’ll add that you need a bittybones friendly work environment to your folder,” I interrupted her, dismissing her explanations with a friendly smile. “And he’s more than welcome to the jellybeans,” I added, giving my own bittybones a look that clearly stated they were going to share nicely  _or else_.

“Friendly means no spiders, right momma?” the Cherry bitty asked his owner anxiously as she placed him on my desk.

“No spiders,” I reassured him as he shyly approached the candy dish. Bless his tiny, nonexistent heart, Brassy crouched down and extended a welcoming arm to the Cherry. 

“C’mere. I’ll help ya find your favorite kind.” The Cherry reached up and held Brassy’s hand while he perused the selection.

“We have a Brassberry at home. He’s my big brother,” the small bitty babbled. “Brassberries are the best!” Brassy’s face flushed teal, but Red glared meanly at the two of them. I guessed he felt jealous that the Cherry went straight to Brassy and ignored him. He’d seemed to like Ben’s Cherry after all; maybe he liked the more timid version of himself. Once I’d convinced myself that the three bittys could coexist without a war breaking out, I returned to my interview.

I asked questions, and Miss Santiago (whose first name was Yasmina) answered them. I typed each answer into her applicant file to cross-reference with potential employers later. Yasmina and I were discussing communication styles for the personality portion of the file when my attention wandered back to the bittys. I swear I heard Red say something about spiders, so I listened intently. Sure enough:

“I just said the  _average_ person swallows eight spiders a year in their sleep. Some people swallow  _more_.” Red chuckled darkly, and I saw the poor Cherry bitty clinging to Brassy, his jaw quivering as he belligerently denied it.

“N-n-no they don’t!” Cherry stammered, sounding unconvinced. Yasmina’s voice trailed off as she realized what was going on. 

“Red!” Brassy and I both scolded, but my wicked little bitty wouldn’t be stopped.

“And if ya don’t swallow ‘em, sometimes they lay their eggs in your eyes. You feel something funny like a bit of dust, and when you go to rub your eye…  _splat!_  spiders everywhere….” I slammed my fist down on the desk as Cherry wailed in terror, pushing Brassy away and running blindly towards his owner.

“That. Is.  _Enough_ ,” I bellowed, rising from my chair. Yasmina scooped up her hysterical bitty, grabbed her purse, and hurried for the door.

“We can reschedule,” I offered weakly. She gave my bittys a glare of intense disgust, which was understandable considering my bitty had probably emotionally scarred hers for life. I doubted he’d be sleeping anytime soon.

“That won’t be necessary,” she responded icily. She didn’t slam the door behind her, instead pulling it firmly shut. A noisy act of anger had been turned into the sharp click of utter and irredeemable disappointment, as if she closed the door not for us, but to protect the rest of the world from being in our presence. Ouch. I whirled on Red, but Brassy was already berating him.

“This is why your other owners returned you!” he spat at Red, who looked pissed off and ready to brawl. My candy bowl shattered as Red hurled it at Brassy, spilling glass shards and brightly colored candies across the desk when he easily dodged the awkward throw. Brassy’s next words shocked me. “You make the world a worse place by being in it!” Silence dropped on the room like an atom bomb into the vacuum of words that could never be unsaid, never be unheard, and sadly, never be untrue.

We went home in silence. We ate dinner in silence. We laid awake that night in our three separate worlds in silence. There are just some things an apology can’t cover. It’s going to be a rough few weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

After the Office Interview Disaster, I knew we weren’t ready to add more bittybones to the family just yet. We still had problems such as Brass-Bean’s refusal to apologize and Red’s murder-filled glares and uncharacteristic silence. I tried to cheer Red up with extra attention and cuddles, but Brassy’s words at the office had cut him deeply. I even had problems with the Brassberry bitty himself. Despite trusting me with pretty much everything else in his life, he still wouldn’t let me clean his wound for him.

He’d told me when he was approaching his heat; I’d let him use my credit card to overnight some “supplies” and gave him full run of the study, including a desktop computer that I rarely use but is pretty up-to-date. I left the credit card with him in case he wanted to use some pay-to-play websites, and he spent about a day and a half in there. Imagine my embarrassment when the credit card company called and I had to assure them that yes, those porn site payments and sex toy purchases were in fact, me. Explaining it was for my bittybones just made it seem like I was in denial.

I never asked Brassy what he bought; I felt that was his own personal business. Hold on, Red wants to type.

**(i totally checked the browser history that the big asshole forgot to delete, and wow. never seen so much quality porn of women bearing a striking resemblance to momma. i might ask him to e-mail me the links later. dude’s got excellent taste. too bad momma was too busy feeding him to to snoop with me. i wonder what she’d think of her precious little pervberry if she knew.)**

I guess Brassy read whatever Red typed because now they’re scuffling, and they knocked Barfington Bear onto the floor with their rough-housing.

Anyway, after his heat and his after-heat meal, Brassy went to his bitty bed to sleep it off. He slept for almost an entire day. Red and I ended up spending that time together bonding, and I really thought he might be feeling better about what happened. I decided they could safely be in the kitchen together with me while I cooked. I wanted to make cedar plank salmon, but I needed to be able to pay attention to the fish without having to constantly monitor the bittys. Brassy liked to stand too close to the fire anyway, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I could trust Red not to push him in, so I hatched a plan.

I filled the sink with water and set the cedar planks in to soak. I started getting the potatoes ready to go in the oven. I was making roasted garlic and rosemary baby red potatoes to go with the salmon. The recipe recommended asparagus as well, but I preferred green beans. I set the pile of green beans on the counter in front of my bittys.

“I need you guys to break the ends off of these green beans,” I explained. “Whoever preps the most green beans will get a kiss before bed tonight.” They narrowed their eyes at each other. I picked up Red to give him a nuzzle and while he was pressed against my face, I mouthed  _let him win_  at Brassy, who nodded. I gave Brassy a very gentle pat on the head, and turned my attention to preparing the potatoes. The enthusiastic snapping of green bean ends was a welcome relief after days of silence broken up only by angry shouting. I hoped that besting Brassy at something would help Red move past Brassy’s words about him. I even began to hum a tune, thinking that everything might finally be going well.

I heard the plop of something falling into the water where the planks were soaking. I took a deep breath, preparing to turn and see my bittybones throwing green beans at each other or dropping each other’s green beans into the water or possibly some other naughty skele antics I couldn’t even conceive of yet. All I saw was Red, calmly snapping the ends off of green beans and looking as innocent as a newborn kitten. He had obviously done something. I glanced around quickly. I didn’t see Brassy anywhere,

“Where’s Brassberry?” I asked as suspicion dawned on me. The splash!

“Taking his bath early today,” replied my nonchalant attempted murderer with a smirk on his face. I had already rushed to the sink.

“Red, how could you?” I wailed, fishing the waterlogged skeleton out of the water. I tucked him protectively against my chest and glared at Red, who looked sincerely confused.

“I just pushed him in the water as a prank!” He caught sight of Brassy’s limp body and frowned, his eyes widening as he realized what must have happened. I told him anyway.

“He can’t swim. Brassberries sink!” I rubbed Brass-Bean vigorously with a soft, clean kitchen towel. He didn’t move.

“Oops.”


	8. Chapter 8

Red and I both panicked. I clutched my poor limp Brassberry tightly, trying to figure out if chest compressions would help considering he had no lungs. Red climbed up my arm, perching on my shoulder and peering helplessly down at his adopted brother and rival.

“What do I do?” I yelled, as if I somehow expected the Heavens to open up and guide me, or at least that Red knew some type of bittybones CPR.

“I dunno,” Red shouted. “I’ve never drowned before!” Despite his unhelpful answer, he slid down to my chest where I held Brassy and thumped the bigger bitty on the back with his tiny fist. His borderline abusive solution worked; as Red pounded on him with well-meaning, panic-fueled blows, Brassy coughed up some water straight down my shirt. My relief didn’t last because my little skele-bean remained unresponsive. I racked my brain for care information.

“If he’s sick or injured, you have to put him on your chest so he can hear and feel your heartbeat” I murmured to myself, positioning Brassy right above my heart. “He will need meat… but he’s unconscious; he can’t chew!” I felt anxiety overwhelming me. My bitty was going to die because I couldn’t care for him properly! My vision tunneled and I started to hyperventilate. I began to pace, repeating “what do I do?” at a frantic speed.

“Momma!” Red’s voice pierced the haze of my hysteria, his tone indicating that he’d called for me more than once. “Put your hand up here.” Once he had my attention, he instructed me firmly and patiently, and I followed those instructions. He bit me, hard. Blood beaded at the end of my finger and began to run down the savaged digit.

“What the fuck, Red,” I demanded hotly.

“Put it in his mouth,” was the solemn reply. “It’ll help.”

I used my bleeding finger to gently pry open my Brassberry’s jaws. At first he didn’t react to the blood flowing into his mouth, but he reflexively swallowed when the blood hit his throat. Moments later, I felt the dab of a minuscule tongue against the wound. The licking turned into suckling as Brassy opened his little eye sockets, and soon he’d nestled comfortably on my chest, tending to my injured finger with his tongue and stroking my hand lovingly with a drowsy but content look on his face.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t swim,” Red confessed softly, patting Brassy’s back more gently now. It was an apology for the ages considering who it came from and who it was directed at.

“S’ok,” mumbled Brassy even though attempted murder is a lot of things but ok isn’t one of them. Although it had caused the cozy brotherly scene taking place on my cleavage.

“Hey, Brass Bean,” I said, nudging him. “I’m going to have to change your bandage, sweetie. It’s soaked.” He tensed up, ready to protest, but I silenced him. “No arguments. I know you have an extra eye there, and I don’t care about it one bit. I love you just the way you are.” He relaxed and finally let me handle his wound care. It was the final stepping stone to stability. Maybe we were ready for more bittys?

“I still won the kiss though,” Red insisted. I picked him up and prepared to smooch his sassy little skull, but I never got the chance because Brassy informed me that the potatoes were burning, perhaps even on fire. I rushed to the kitchen to turn off the stove, rethinking my assessment of our readiness for more mini skeletons. Perhaps this was as ready as our little dysfunctional family would ever be.

**(i never got my kiss thanks to that asshole)**

_(heh heh heh)_


End file.
